1. Dagmara

Dagmara felt safer when her gloves were laced with poison.

The sun was setting over the cliffside town of Gorzhelm, casting a pink hue on the pastel-colored buildings. The town was bustling with villagers and foreigners, preparing for Princess Magdalena’s coronation the following morning.

Honing in on her target—innocent Greta—Dagmara passed underneath a flag with the royal sigil, brushed past a couple, and knocked into the barmaid.

Greta let out a squeal, stumbling back a few steps and dropping her keys.

“Oh, my apologies!” Dagmara said before Greta could utter a word. Swooping to pick up the keys, Dagmara placed them in Greta’s bare hands, giving her a firm grip.

“My fault.” Greta’s face was flushed as she accepted the keys. “Thank you.”

“Long live the guardians,” Dagmara added before sweeping into the flow of the crowd once more. She meticulously removed the gloves and slipped them into a nearby wastebasket. Rounding the corner, she eyed Greta, noticing her pace was already sluggish. It wouldn’t be long before one of the nice citizens of Gorzhelm ushered her to the doctor. By then, the trace of bilans would already be out of her system, and the doctor would simply advise her to rest.

Continuing with diligence, Dagmara proceeded to the tavern, tightening her cloak to shield herself from the chill.

The main square was flooded with citizens not only from Gorzhelm, but from all of Azurem. The central fountain held a spectacular waterworks display, in an attempt to mimic the water manipulation the Guardians of Azurem possessed. Children jumped near the edge, pretending they could harness the magic of the guardians. Tomorrow, Princess Magda would rise to become a guardian of Azurem, joining her father and brother as a Guardian of Life. Everyone was here to witness the day she received her magic.

Dagmara watched the children for a brief moment as they played with their pets in the square. Some were weak with bloodshot eyes, indicating that they might already be infected with the kingdom’s most deadly illness ravaging the countryside. It only affected children, so Dagmara was safe, but no one knew how exactly it spread in the first place.

“Long live the guardians.” A woman stepped in Dagmara’s path, extending a single poppy flower toward her.

“No, thank you,” Dagmara said gently. “Long live the guardians.”

She knew better than to accept handouts on the street, especially during the time of the coronation and when an infection was spreading. She checked her money pouch, single dagger, and potions pouch out of sheer habit as she picked up her pace. Her heart rate started to intensify, and her breath was shallow. She had been walking for too long. She hadn’t stopped to rest since she left the royal fortress. Urging herself to continue, hating the constant reminder of her imperfect health, Dagmara pushed her body despite her condition and reached the tavern.

The tavern was hot and smelled of sweat and alcohol. All around her people danced to the fiddle’s music, illegally gambled, or shared secrets after a long day working in the mines. The Azuremi crest hung in every corner of the room, softening the ambiance with pastel pinks and blues. Above the bar was a wolf carving, appropriate for the name of the tavern.

She noticed her victim almost immediately in the corner from his boisterous gestures. King Bogdan had described him well. Jacek’s beard was dripping with alcohol, making his graying hair glossy, and his shirt was half unbuttoned. He struggled to stay upright in his chair, slurring his words as he cheered on the gamblers.

Dagmara spotted an open seat at the bar and almost let out an audible sigh of relief. She wouldn’t be able to stand much longer. Slithering through the patrons, shoving aside the drunk miners, she almost made it to the barstool when she slammed into someone’s shoulder. He knocked her completely off balance and she stumbled to catch herself on the bar. As she turned around to face him, she noticed he also braced himself against the bar, his arms on either side of her.

Dagmara looked up…and up at him.

His eyes were a rich chocolate, and his black hair fell to the bottom of his ears. He was tall and broad, adorning a black vest with silver stitching and a black diamond crest. It was unfamiliar to her, but it must have signified some noble household. His skin was tanned, and his jawline was chiseled. His gaze was hypnotic. The way he stood demanded attention, almost as if he was a guardian himself.

By the guardians, he was the most attractive man in Azurem.

Her lower back was pressed against the bar, and he was nearly leaning over her with his hands braced on either side of her body. Dagmara could only stare as he parted his lips.

“Pardon me,” he said with a soft accent, remaining close to her.

All the warmth vanished from Dagmara’s body. He wasn’t Azuremi at all. He was Ilusaurian. What was someone from Ilusauri doing on Azuremi soil when the kingdoms cut ties over a decade ago? What was the Mad King of Ilusauri scheming now?

Dagmara’s skin prickled. She had never met someone from that monstrous kingdom. She was very young when the kingdoms broke ties, and hadn’t understood all the politics surrounding the split.

She didn’t have time to think about that. Someone let him across the border, so he had to have permission to be here. Maybe King Bogdan invited representatives from each kingdom to the coronation? Maybe he was here on business? It didn’t concern her why the dreamy man was here at all.

“You’re excused,” Dagmara replied curtly. With a small nod, she shoved his arm out of the way and stole the barstool, trying desperately to ignore the inviting raise of his eyebrows. As soon as she sat, her heart settled, and the dizzying nausea dissipated. Her breathing slowed, and she let out a sigh of relief.

The man’s gaze lingered as he passed by, reaching the other end of the bar. He leaned his elbows against the wood, and muscles rippled at every inch of his body. A smirk crossed his face, and he glanced in her direction.

She snapped her head away with a shake, clearing her mind. She was here for one reason only.

“On the house for the prettiest girl in town,” the barkeep said, his voice raspy. He was barely as tall as the bar, and his skin was lined with wrinkles. He set down a jug intended for beer, but instead held Kvas. She was here often enough for him to know she didn’t drink. At least not at the Wilk Tavern. Whenever she was here, she was on business.

“Thank you, Andrzej.” She flashed him a smile and his cheeks reddened.

The fiddler squeaked on a high note, but everyone was too drunk to notice. Dagmara took a sip of the Kvas, having the perfect view of Jacek from her spot at the bar. She eyed him over the rim of her glass, waiting for her moment. Her sheathed dagger pressed into her waist underneath her cloak, and her bodice was laced with throwing stars. However, if she did this correctly, she wouldn’t have to use either of those weapons. Instead, she had her potions pouch.

The bar shook as someone slammed their palm against it. Dagmara snapped her head to view the commotion. The barkeeper was standing on his step stool to be at eye level with a patron—yet he was still a few inches shorter than the man across the bar.

“I do not serve Ilusaurians in this tavern! Go back to your mad king!” The barkeep wagged his finger in the man’s face. It was the attractive man she had the fortune of bumping into earlier.

The foreigner’s voice was sonorous. “Surely you can make an exception.”

This could not get out of hand. If anyone else knew there was an Ilusaurian at the tavern, there would undoubtedly be a fight, and she didn’t need the town knights to make the crowd disperse. She wouldn’t risk losing Jacek. Not yet.

“Andrzej,” Dagmara called.

The barkeep bounced at his name. “Yes, milady?” His raspy voice croaked, struggling to yell over the chaotic patrons.

“Give the man what he wants.”

“But he is an Ilusaurian!”

Dagmara slipped her hand inside her cloak and withdrew three golden coins. They were thin between her fingers, and she faintly could feel the raised outline of the elk, her kingdom’s symbolic animal. She set them on the bar in front of her, sliding them in his direction.

Andrzej’s eyes widened. He hopped off the stepstool and rushed over, greedily snatching the coins as though they would disappear if he hadn’t grabbed them in time. “For you, milady, anything.” Andrzej gave her a smile, showing a full set of yellow teeth.

He wasn’t doing it for her, he was doing it for the coin.

“And here I thought Azuremi women despised the Ilusaurian.” The man’s voice was deep with a thick Ilusaurian accent, but he retained a hint of humor.

Was everyone from Ilusauri this attractive?

The thought struck her, and she instantly shoved it from her mind.

He started to reach into his pocket.

“I don’t want your money,” Dagmara said.

His hand froze halfway inside his pocket. “You paid him double.”

“I did.”

“Where did you get so much coin?”

Dagmara sat taller on the barstool. “It is not polite to ask where a woman gets her money.”

“Hmm,” the young man mused. He pulled the empty barstool beside her closer to him and sat down. “I’m not surprised. You are stunning, with the curves to capture any man in this room. I’m sure you make a lot every night.”

For a moment she was flattered, her cheeks turning bright red. Then her jaw dropped. “I am not a prostitute.”

The man raised his hands defensively. “Forgive me, I was mistaken. I’m simply impressed by your generosity.”

“I’m impressed by your Azuremi.” Whoever this man was, he had training in foreign languages. That could only mean he was wealthy or came from a noble background.

The side of his cheek rose into a smirk. “Oh, a compliment. Are you flirting with me?”

Dagmara snapped her head away, taking a large gulp of Kvas and spotting Jacek in the crowd once more. It calmed her to see him in the same spot he had been moments ago.

“My name is Sabien,” the young man introduced himself, a melodic tone to his rich voice. “You are?”

“Dagmara.”

Sabien smiled. “Sounds very similar to dagger.”

“It is a common Azuremi name.”

“Even so, your name is as sharp as your tongue.”

“Keep bothering me, and you’ll see how sharp my tongue can be.”

“I have no doubt you’re very skilled with it.”

Her face paled, caught off guard once more. She fumbled for words, but he casually went on. “I didn’t think I would like Azurem, but it’s growing on me,” he stated. Then he gestured toward the carving on the wall. “And all the wolf sculptures are immaculate. I always loved those fierce creatures. Don’t you agree?”

“I’ve never given it much thought.”

“Maybe you should.” Sabien winked. “Now, I don’t like to be indebted to someone. How can I repay you for the drink?”

“ ‘Thank you’ would be sufficient. Or do they not have those words in Ilusaurian?”

He let out a short laugh that rumbled in his throat. “Ah, so you do despise Ilusauri.”

“Along with everyone else here.”

Sabien shifted in his chair, leaning his elbow against the bar. “Maybe Azurem should ask to be allies again.”

“Why? Ilusauri impulsively invaded Celestaire. Ilusauri could invade us too.”

“Impulsive? Do you know why King Claude is at war with Celestaire?”

“Because he’s selfish, and he wants control of all kingdoms.”

Sabien’s jaw clenched. “You don’t know anything about him.”

“The Mad King? I know he murdered his father when he was thirteen. That’s all I need to know to agree with the rest of my people that he is a monster.”

The two stared at each other with fire behind their eyes. They waited for the other to break first. Dagmara gripped her drink until her knuckles turned white.

Andrzej interrupted them, setting Sabien’s drink down on the bar. “Here you go, Ilusaurian! Another for you, milady?” The crowd seemed to get more rowdy by the minute.

“No,” Dagmara said. “You seem to have your hands full.”

Andrzej wiped sweat from his brow. “Well, Greta has abandoned me on the busiest night of my life! Where is that girl?” He hobbled away, attempting to calm a crowd of miners that had just gotten off their shift.

Dagmara’s gaze shot in Jacek’s direction again. His table would be asking for another round shortly.

“You have special business with that old drunk?” Sabien nodded his chin in Jacek’s direction.

Dagmara glared at Sabien. She didn’t waste her time with an answer. Instead, she prodded him with her own question. “Why are you here in Gorzhelm?”

Sabien picked up his mug and took a slow sip. He set the mug down gingerly, taking his time to lick a stray drop of alcohol from his lips. He finally answered, “I’m here for the coronation.”

“They won’t let you in,” Dagmara said. “They’re being much more strict on invitations with the spreading infections. Besides, it is for guardians and Azuremi citizens only.”

“Maybe I was sent on Claude’s behalf.”

“The Mad King of Ilusauri wasn’t invited.”

“How would you know?”

Dagmara hesitated.

“With your wealth of knowledge about the fortress, your wealth of coin, and…” he paused to let his fingers skim the hem of Dagmara’s cloak, “…the expensive fabric of your cloak, I suspect you have a very prestigious place there.”

Dagmara yanked the fabric away from him, scooting sideways on the stool.

Sabien grinned. “So, if you work at the royal fortress, what are you doing here the night before the coronation, Dagger?”

“Dagmara,” she corrected.

“I like my nickname better. You wouldn’t happen to be seeking one final night of freedom before your big day, would you?”

Dagmara’s face paled. Did he think she was Princess Magdalena?

A glass shattered behind the bar, and Andrzej let out a slew of curse words.

“Let me help,” Dagmara stated, rising from the barstool. Disregarding Sabien’s questions, she shoved by two drunk men to round the bar.

“Ah, milady, I couldn’t ask that of you,” Andrzej said, already sweeping up the glass, the front of his shirt drenched in beer.

“You said your barmaid didn’t show, let me at least help until the rush dies down,” she said.

Andrzej looked up at her like a lost puppy. “Would you?” he reached out and patted her cheek. “You’re a doll.”

“You stay here, I’ll deliver another round to the tables in the back,” Dagmara announced. Everything was going according to plan. She dropped down behind the bar, finding the pitcher she had hidden there a few nights prior. It was a special pitcher, with a secret compartment for the poison. With a shift of the thumb, the poison would be able to flow out alongside the alcohol. Shift it back, and only the alcohol would dispense. After dropping a pinch of smierc from her potions belt into the pitcher’s poison compartment, Dagmara rose from behind the bar with the pitcher in hand.

She was keenly aware that the Ilusaurian was still watching her. His gaze made the muscles in her stomach tense.

“Can’t take your eyes off me, huh?” she called over her shoulder as she filled the pitcher from the keg.

“Is that a problem, Dagger?” he replied.

She swirled on her heel to face him. “It’s Dagmara.”

“I heard you the first two times.”

“So it’s not your hearing, it’s your memory that sucks.”

He smirked. “I have a perfect memory of the moment I had you trapped against the bar. Unless…you’d like to remind me of that too?”

Forcing herself to ignore the butterflies that churned in her stomach, she made a straight line to Jacek. It would be a problem if Sabien continued to watch her. She was supposed to remain discreet.

Reaching Jacek’s table, she channeled her best acting. “One more round for the table?” She flashed the five men a cute smile. They all shouted something incoherent before slamming their jugs down. Meticulously, she poured the four mugs first, then with a little shift of her thumb, she poured the last jug for Jacek. The poison blended perfectly with the alcohol. They were all too drunk to notice the slight hole beside the spout.

“Long live the guardians!” she exclaimed. As she went back to the bar to get another round of alcohol— without poison—for the next table, she still sensed Sabien’s presence. She had to get rid of him. She wouldn’t let an Ilusaurian ruin this.

She proceeded to the next table, weaving through the customers, and began to fill their drinks. She saw a woman on her right, lounging against a wealthy noble.

Dagmara grabbed her by the hand and leaned in. “Don’t tell anyone, but I heard there’s an Ilusaurian at the bar.”

The woman’s eyes widened as she covered her mouth with a gloved hand. “No!” she exclaimed.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Dagmara repeated before returning to the bar once more. Her heart began to accelerate, not from nerves, but from her health. Her mission was almost over. She could push through. She wouldn’t let her condition define her.

Timing was key. Timing was everything.

But the noise and heat intensified. Darkness started to crowd her peripheral vision, threatening to pull her unconscious.

Then someone took the pitcher from her hands. “Why, you’re as pale as snow!” Andrzej’s raspy voice scraped against her temples. “Go get some air.”

“Thank you,” Dagmara let out. She swerved through the remaining patrons and burst out the back door. A nearby crate caught her as she fell to a seated position. The chill from the night air flooded her body, preventing her from overheating any more. The world returned to normal.

She let out a deep sigh.

Then the silence was broken by a wave of shouts coming from the tavern. Catching a few words here and there, everything from the Mad King to the brutal murder of his own parents was shouted at Sabien. As expected, the bargoers turned on one another, and soon a brawl broke out. The front door burst open, and a wave of customers rushed to the streets. It wasn’t long before a whistle pierced the air and the stampede of boots pounded the cobblestone as half a dozen knights arrived at the scene to break up the fight.

The backdoor swung wide, nearly missing her feet, and a few more drunk patrons stumbled into the back alley.

Lastly, she heard the retching. Glancing across the sleek alley, she saw Jacek grabbing his stomach, coughing up more than alcohol. He must have escaped the tavern as soon as the smierc hit his system.

Gliding to her feet, Dagmara used the commotion to her advantage. She reached Jacek’s side just as he was crumbling to his knees, blood coating the cobblestone.

Dagmara gripped his hand, “By the guardians, I’ll get you a doctor!” she told him, lithely slipping his ring from his finger in the process.

Her voice would never be heard over the reinforcements that rushed to break up the bar fight. She pocketed the ring to bring back to her king and fell into the stream of people, making her way toward the bridge back to the Azuremi fortress.

Passing through town, the bridge finally came into sight. It was dimly lit by torches on either end. Puddles of light cloaked the bridge in uneven areas. The clouds covered the moon, casting more shadows around the street. The crowd was far behind her now. No one would have any reason to cross the bridge aside from her. Everyone attending the coronation was staying in town and arriving at the fortress in the morning. Everyone participating in the coronation who was at the fortress was long asleep, including the Guardians of Life. She pulled up her hood, hiding her blonde hair that made her visible in the night.

Just as she started across the bridge, a hand grabbed her wrist. Swirling around, she slammed into someone hard.

She looked up and could barely make out his face in the shadows as she whispered, “Sabien?”